


Murder, Sex Dungeon

by The_Hidden_Oracle4234



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Chains, Gaslighting, Heavy Angst, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, ITS NOT THAT BAD I SWEAR, Kidnapping, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mental Instability, Not a nice fic, Promise, Sad, Scars, Suspense, Unsure, Whipping, idk some fucked up shit, im sorry, it could be worth a read, like fucked up, like super abusive, or maybe not, sorry im like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 05:04:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13228647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Hidden_Oracle4234/pseuds/The_Hidden_Oracle4234
Summary: Alex is kidnapped and tortured by George but doesn't know its George but also kind of does and its abusive as hell





	Murder, Sex Dungeon

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at an airport at 3 am in my notebook. I found it and typed it up. It's silly but kind of interesting. But also fucked up. And maybe it's confusing im unsure. It's not beta read. and its the new year now like literally its 23 minutes past midnight in Alaska and im about to post this fic. 
> 
>  
> 
> oh well

Alex strained to twist his head around to see his scars in the mirror. Holding the position just right, he could see at least fifty lashes across his back. The scars pink and rough, criss-cross like a map. Could have been a city. Could be New York. That’d be entertaining considering that’s where he got them. Then again, they’re not a map of anything. Just some old scars from an encounter he can’t quite recall. 

 

Gently, Alex followed one scar with his finger until it connected with a different scar and led him in a new direction. His memories, interestingly enough, could be triggered by pressing down on the scars. A small amount of pressure in the right place and he’d be able to remember how he got the scars. Any other time he had no clue. Sometimes he pressed just to remember. To be able to know. Other times he pretended they didn’t exist.

 

He thought about applying pressure. He internally weighed the risks. The force of his hand colliding with the most sensitive part of him flipped a switch. Alex became submissive and plaint like clay ready to mold. He would act fearful and smaller than he was, which was pretty small considering he was already on the short side. 

 

Any order or act of aggression sent him scrambling to comply. No matter how hard Alex tried, he could never not act this way. It was just a reflex. Maybe it was how he protected himself. A wild animal becoming domestic to survive. 

 

Alex remembers attempting to force himself to change his behavior. A sort of experiment. Whenever he was alone, he’d press down, re-experience everything, but instead of becoming submissive he would try to be assertive or aggressive if possible. 

 

It never worked. No matter how hard he tried or how hard he fought, it never worked. He was at the mercy of everyone else and it was agonizing. Your mind, your instincts, forcing you to bow and sink below the feet of others. It made him feel worthless. Like he was nothing. Just a tool to be used or thrown away. 

 

Then again, the only time he ever really knew how he came to be where he is now was through his memories. The memories he can only experience if he goes back under if he presses down. It was very tempting. Alex often lay awake at night trying to bring those haunting memories to the surface without reliving them, without the pain that he knew frequently came with it. Every time he comes back to himself after an episode, his back aches and stings like nothing ever before. It was like he got whipped all over again. 

 

Alex assumes that’s what happens during an episode. Recalling the abuse forces him to experience it. But then, for some strange reason, whenever he awakes it’s all gone. The memories. Gone. Like the abuse never even happened, the only thing to show for it is the scars.

 

The thought crosses his mind. He would like to see what happened. To see who did this to him. To remember, if only for a moment. He had made his decision. He’d do it again.

 

Alex adds the slightest pressure to the scars. He let out a gasp as a strange feeling overtook him. His mind grew fuzzy and his vision darkened. He blacked out. 

 

He awoke on the floor.in a room he’s never seen before. It was dark, not light permitted. The walls were cinder blocks and the floor was cold. A shower drain was in the middle of the room. Alex blinked a few times to focus his vision. He tried to see a door through the darkness but found nothing. It was too dark. He couldn’t even see how big the room was. He imagined it was small though. It felt small. Stuffy. Like a stone cage. 

 

Alex pushed himself into a sitting position and lightly touched his forehead. His head ached terribly, there seemed to be a bump on his forehead. It felt like he was hit. Alex couldn’t remember what happened exactly, but….wait.

 

He could remember. Alex was buying groceries late at night for the New Year’s Party. Twenty Sixteen was about to end and John had thrown a party. Alex, being John’s best friend, was invited. He decided to pick up some food on his way over. Doritos, Tostitos, salsa, and lots of alcohol filled his shopping cart. The dark parking lot screamed danger, but he felt safe enough. His car was right there. It was so close. Just a few more steps and he’d be there. He would put the food and booze in the back, then he’d be on his way. 

 

Looking back now, parking in the darkest spot in the lot was probably a bad idea. Just before he got to the shelter of his vehicle, a dark figure emerged from between two cars. Alex walked a little faster. The figure moved inhumanly quick and knocked Alex to the ground. Then, the figure pressed a cloth to his nose and mouth. He blacked out.

 

Now he’s here. In some sort of murder, sex, dungeon. Alex hoped he wasn’t murdered here. Or sexed for that matter. Is sexed a thing? Can someone be sexed? If someone could be sexed, he didn’t want it to be him. Frankly, this was not how he wanted to start twenty seventeen especially after the shit storm that was twenty sixteen. 

 

Maybe it wouldn’t get any worse. Maybe the person that kidnapped him was really friendly and just didn’t want to be alone on New Years. 

 

Maybe they’d be a little too friendly. 

 

Alex rolled his eyes. He should get out of here. He pushed himself up off the floor and stood int he center of the room. Well, at least he thought it was the center. He looked around. It was really dark. To his left, he could barely see a wall. Behind him was also a wall. Infront of him was again a wall. Surprise. Except, it was different. Alex walked closer to the wall and saw a rope attached to the wall traveling upward towards the ceiling. Curious, Alex grabbed the rope and tugged. Something seemed to open from the ceiling, he couldn’t tell though, too dark, but something did drop in the center of the room. Chains. Old rusty chains.

 

He stepped towards the swaying chains. There was two of them. Both had a circle at the end, presumably for a body part. Murder, sex dungeon. Exhibit A, B, C, D, whole damn case. 

 

He really needed to get out of here. Alex turned in the direction he hadn’t looked over to yet and headed that way. As far as he could tell, there was no wall. He was able to walk several steps in the darkness before realizing that when he turned around he could no longer see the swinging chains. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, forcing him to trudge on. See where this led. So he kept going. 

 

And going. And going. It was like the room/hallway went on forever. Then again, he was making tiny steps. He didn’t want to trip on something in the darkness. That’d be unfortunate. 

 

Alex hated walking through the silent darkness. It was eery. All he could hear was his unsteady breathing, his heartbeat in his ears, and the ominous clanking of the chains behind him. Oh and the footsteps. 

 

Wait footsteps?

 

Someone was walking towards him slowly. He could hear the click-clack of their shoes. His heartbeat louder in his ears, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he turned and ran. Not very manly, but he was not fighting this asshole in an open space like this. He couldn’t see anything there. At least back with the chains, he could see the walls. He’s small, he could use the walls to his advantage. 

 

“Do not run Alexander.” A voice came from the darkness behind him, making Alex freeze. The man’s voice was smooth, like silk with an English lit to it. Alex wanted to simultaneously run faster from the voice but also wanted to run to the voice. Something about it was endearing. 

 

But Alex knew better. So he kept running. He ran until his head almost knocked into the chains dangling from the ceiling. Alex pressed his back against the wall and scanned the wall of darkness, searching for any sign of movement. 

 

Minutes passed with nothing. No sounds. No movement. Nothing. Almost like the man had vanished leaving Alex to his own devices. That thought disappeared the moment the man stepped out of the darkness. 

 

The man was, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. Gorgeous. Astounding even. Alex could not look away. The man was perfect. Though, he was so ordinary looking there was this spark, this flare with everything about him. Like he was born of kings. Royalty.

 

The man differed from Alex who had long mocha colored hair and olive skin. Pink lips and dark brown eyes. The man had short brown hair, lighter in color. He had fair skin and blue eyes, a strong jaw and even stronger muscles. He looked like every other white guy. Well, almost. He was kind of hot. In fact, Alex would totally bone this guy if they were in a different setting. I mean sure he loves chains and being dominated, but he draws the line at kidnapping. He prefers having consent. 

 

Blue eyes was different than other guys though. Alex couldn’t figure out why, but he was drawn to him. Then, Blue started speaking and Alex hung on every word. 

 

“Hey Baby Boy, how are you feeling today? Friendly?” Blue spoke softly, his accent more pronounced than before. Alex was taken aback. This guy just called him “Baby Boy”. The fear that had filled his body was replaced with anger. Who the hell did this guy think he was talking to? Blue-eyed him with a smug expression, further fueling Alex’s fire. 

 

“Excuse me? Who the fuck you think you talking to?!” Alex summoned his inner diva with wild hand gestures and head rolls. Maybe he shouldn’t be snapping like this to his captor, but screw it. He was throwing caution to the wind. 

 

Blue quirked an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to respond, but Alex cut him off.

 

“I am not your Baby Boy,” Alex used finger quotes around “Baby Boy.” 

 

“I am not anyone’s Baby Boy. I understand that you just kidnapped me and all but you better treat me some respect. The name is Alexander Hamilton. I can spell it out for you if you need. A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R.  To quote Madea, it’s Alexan to the damn D-E-R.” If Alex were anyone else, he would laugh. He figured him shouting at this sexy scary looking 6’4 guy was hilarious, but at the moment he was just pissed. 

 

So he continued.

 

“And to think, I had a teeny weeny bit of hope that you’d have some class because you’re English. Well, that ship sank. I guess just because some cunt has a British accent don’t mean he’s witty or decent or smart. Apparently, not every asshole has a heart of gold.” Alex was getting out of breath, but it was worth it to see the expression on Blue’s face. The man looked beyond irritated. Granted, that is not what a captive would usually what their captor to be, but Alex wasn’t thinking too clearly at this point. Too much adrenaline.

 

“You know what? Suck my Caribbean dick  _ baby boy _ .” Alex leaned back against the wall and glared at Blue with an unparalleled intensity. For a moment, Blue just stared right back. Everything was still and everything was silent. Then, Blue was across the room with his hand around Alex’s neck.

 

Alex’s head had hit the wall with a  _ crack.  _ He winced in pain and gasped for air. Blue squeezed tighter and tighter. Black crept around his vision. Fuck he was going to black out again. Blue was inches from his face now, growling in his air. 

 

Maybe Alex shouldn’t have provoked him. 

 

But, before Alex blacked out, Blue let go and Alex crumpled to the floor in a heap. Alex cried out when Blue grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked up, forcefully guiding him across the floor towards the sort of but not actually center of the room. With the chains and the drain. Blue lifted Alex up and placed his wrists in the cuffs of the chains. When Blue let Alex go, he struggled to hold his ground and stand back up, the room was spinning and his head was swimming. He would have fallen already had it not been for the chains holding him up. 

 

Blue went to the wall across from Alex where the rope dangled. The man eyed Alex and gave the rope a strong tug. Alex lifted higher, his feet no flat on the floor but scraping the ground. He hung in the air at the mercy of Blue. 

 

His arms pulled tight above his head, his wrists bound painfully. They were being rubbed raw, Blue was rough with him and not in a sexy way. Alex couldn’t tell how long he hung there, but it felt like forever. Head aching, wrists stinging, and lungs burning, this was not something he would recommend to a friend. 

 

Speaking of friends...Alex’s thoughts drifted to John. He wondered if John noticed his absence. If John was searching for him. If John would find him. 

 

If anyone would…

 

Alex tried to think of something else. He didn’t want to focus on his friends right now and he really didn’t want to think about Blue. But, what else was there to think about? What was on T.V? What shows he’d miss being stuck in this damn basement? What shows he’d miss if he died…

 

Alex groaned and bit his lip to distract himself. Don’t focus on that. Focus on something else.

 

Blue wasn’t in his line of sight and he wasn’t on either side of him. Which means he must be behind him. That’s a scary thought. If Alex stilled his breathing he could hear Blue behind him. He felt like someone from Jurassic Park being chased by Raptors. Except he can’t run away. He’s stuck.

 

Alex shivered when a hand touched his side. Blue. The man walked around Alex to stand in front of him. His hand never left Alex’s body. Alex met his eyes and wanted nothing more to punch Blue in his stupid kind of hot face. He didn’t deserve such an attractive face. It was irritating. 

 

“Are you ready to behave now sweetheart?” Blue sounded so sweet, so inviting. A part of Alex wanted to say yes, to give in to this man. A part of Alex was falling for him, a really fucked up part of course. It was hard to ignore though. He was drawn to this man.

 

Blue reached out a hand a gently stroked his cheek and Alex shivered in response. Blue had cold hands. There was no gentleness or meaningful care behind the gesture. It was a promise. If Alex disobeyed, he’d be punished. Severely.

 

This guy was a total dick and Alex was beyond fed up with his bullshit no matter how tempting that face was. Maybe Alex could add a little something extra to that face. Something like…

 

Alex spits in Blue’s face. For a moment, Blue was still, almost like he was in shock. Like he didn’t expect Alex’s response. 

 

The man pursed his lips and wiped the saliva from his face. He looked directly into Alex’s eyes. Blue’s expression was no longer soft. His eyes were no longer shiny and light, but dark and filled with….

 

In that moment Alex could not place the emotion, but he knew it was fucking scary. So scary in fact that he didn’t notice when he began to shake. Alex dug his nails into his palms to calm himself down. Knuckles white and squeezing tight, blood trickled down his arm. Guess he was stronger than he thought. Or he just had sharp nails. 

 

Alex stopped shaking but the sensation in his stomach didn’t quit. It rose and washed over him like a wave. Every part of him tingled. Burned. Itched. Screamed. To run.

 

But he couldn’t. He was stuck.

 

“That wasn’t very nice pet.” The man’s voice was dark and deep as if from Hell. It reverberated off his bones and echoed through his ears. Alex’s blood ran cold. This was too familiar. Alex wanted to go. He wanted to leave. He wanted to stop remembering. This was too real. Too familiar. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Stop. Make it stop.

 

_ STOP…. _

 

He wanted to leave now. Now.

 

“Do you know what we do to naughty pets?”

 

No. Stop. Please. No. 

 

Alex struggles against the chains and lets out a strangled cry. This memory, the one he’s seen a hundred times is different. Something has changed. He...He may remember everything after this. After he wakes up. The man. He knows him. He knows him now. Currently. In the present. He’s…..Man…...Blue…….King. He’s King. King. King. 

 

Alex couldn’t think why he knew that title. Why was that title so fitting to Blue? Why? Why? Alex was remembering more and more but not enough. Not enough to know. To understand. 

 

“We punish them, Alexander. Without mercy.”

 

Alex screamed loud. An ear piercing, blood-curdling scream. It shook the very walls of his mind.

 

The man. Blue. King.  _ George.  _ Alex remembered. King. King. King. King. 

 

King moved out of view and Alex attempted to follow, but King held his neck still. Tight. He couldn’t breathe. Relief was so close, black edged his vision, sleep tugged at him. He could close his eyes. He could sleep. It was so close.

 

Alex gasped and sucked in as much oxygen as he could when the hand released its grip on his throat. He coughed loud, choking on air. Tears pricked from his eyes, threatening to spill over. 

 

“Don’t cry. It’s terribly attractive,” deadpanned King. Alex tried so desperately to obey, but he was afraid and his everything was starting to hurt. He couldn’t help it. A tear slipped down his cheek. Alex was given a harsh slap. His face, red and stung, featured fresh tear tracks. King was in front of him now and rolled his eyes like Alex’s pain was an inconvenience. Alex wished he could slap that stupid look off his face, but he couldn’t find the strength to do it. And his hands were in chains so even if he could slap King, he couldn’t because of the chains. So that’s awkward. 

 

It felt like every minute with King was draining Alex of his courage and his will. It was agonizing to be in his presence. 

 

King grabbed Alex’s chin. Hard. Alex winced as King’s nails dug into his face. He whimpered quietly when King stroked his cheek gently with his free hand. The contrast of the two actions was striking. And frightening. King tutted and shook his head. 

 

“I had hope for you pet. I prayed I wouldn’t have to do this.” Fear rose in Alex as he wondered what he meant. He would ask if he wasn’t afraid of the answer. Suddenly King released his chin and twirled around behind Alex. Out of sight. The tingly feeling running through his nerves turned tenfold. Whatever was about to happen was not going to be good. At all.

 

Alex could only worry his bottom lip and wait. 

‘

And wait.

 

One minute.

 

Two minutes.

 

The suspense was killing him. Alex started wanting for it to happen already when a shiver went down his spine as a slight breeze hit him. Alex paused. They were inside. Underground presumably. Where was a breeze coming from?

 

_ CRACK  _

 

Alex screamed in pain as the whip ripped a road into his back. His body swang forward away from the assault. The chains cut harshly into his skin. Blood bubbled from his wrists and slid down his arms mixing with the blood pouring out of his back.

 

The room was quiet except for the sounds of his sobs and pleas. Begging. It only took one lash and he already wanted it over. He was weak. Fuck. Alex wept and whined like a wounded dog. 

 

_ CRACK _

 

His screams tore the silence. A pinata dripping red swinging to and fro. Alex felt like he was being skinned alive. The second lash taking off just as much skin as the first. Alex didn’t get more time before the third. 

 

_ CRACK  _

 

It was like being torn apart. A paper shredder, but with his skin. Another. More. Eventually, his back went numb. King didn’t stop though. Alex started counting. Nine. Fifteen. Thirty. Thirty-two. His back was no longer skin. Just meat and blood. Forty. Forty-five. Forty-six. Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine.

 

Fifty.

 

Alex blacked out.

 

When he woke, he was alone. The man was gone. Blue was gone. King was gone. His name was King. Remember. Alex stared at his scars in the mirror. The dungeon was gone. He was in his room in front of his mirror. He traced one scar. Then another. And another. Alex traced all fifty scars.

 

“I remember.” He slumped to the floor. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He just trembled. The realization of his life, his past, setting in. Alex was owned, beaten, abused, ruined by King. His body was marked up and mauled by his wrath. 

 

Every day he will relive that moment. The moment he became owned. When he submitted. When he lost. 

 

Alex looked into the mirror. It was weird. Being able to remember how he got those scars. The scars that haunted him every day. That mocked him. Broke him. To know what happened after all this time was strange. 

 

What was even weirder though, was not remembering escaping. Or even if he ever escaped. 

 

The door to his room creaking and opening started him. Alex turned around ready to question who just opened the door, but he froze. The man at the door stepped inside and closed the door behind him. A malicious smile spread across the man’s face.

 

Fear wrapped around Alex’s body, holding him still. The man. Blue. King.

 

“Hello, sweetheart. Behaving today?” The smooth silk voice swirled around him, trapping his head in a daze. His mid foggy and heavy, his eyelids fell and he blinked and blinked and blinked. His mind cleared. The fear vanished. His heart rate slowed. He felt calm. Safe. Secure.

 

Alex didn’t remember how he got the scars or who gave them to him. All Alex knows is that his boyfriend will always be there for him. George would protect him. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos are great comments are great constructive criticism is great, i love you and happy new year oh gogaroini im tired


End file.
